


Cavalier Treatment

by chaletian



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 09:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaletian/pseuds/chaletian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was something almost satisfying, D’Artagnan thought, about being wounded by a cavalry officer in the Red Guard. Not the wound itself, particularly – that was sort of uncomfortable and kept bleeding all over the place – but the sense of getting involved, of doing something worthwhile. Being a real Musketeer. It was like a badge of honour. Like a freely bleeding red badge of honour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cavalier Treatment

There was something almost satisfying, D’Artagnan thought, about being wounded by a cavalry officer in the Red Guard. Not the wound itself, particularly – that was sort of uncomfortable and kept bleeding all over the place – but the sense of getting involved, of doing something worthwhile. Being a real Musketeer. It was like a badge of honour. Like a freely bleeding red badge of honour.

oOo

“You should get that looked at,” advised Athos, downing a tankard of sack.

“It’s nothing,” said D’Artagnan, with a careless wave of his own tankard. “I’d like to see a Red Guard soldier who can get the better of me.”

“Carry on drinking like that, lad, and I don’t doubt you will,” responded Aramis. “Do as Athos says. Du Chemin will take a look for you, back at the barracks.”

“I’m fine,” insisted D’Artagnan. He was fine. Nothing but a scratch. Still bleeding, though.

“Course you’re fine,” said Porthos. “Right up until the point it goes putrid and you end up dead in the gutter with the housewives of Paris emptying their piss-pots over your decomposing head.”

Athos and Aramis grinned. D’Artagnan went pale.

“If I’ve seen it once, I’ve seen it a hundred times,” Porthos continued.

“A regular hazard to public health,” said Athos. “All those dead bodies in the gutter.”

“And the piss,” added Aramis. “Don’t forget the piss.”

“One truly can’t,” replied Athos. He looked over at D’Artagnan again. “Sure you don’t want to see Du Chemin? You’re looking a little the worse for wear.”

“Maybe I will,” said D’Artagnan, clutching uncomfortably at his bloody midriff. “I mean, give him something to do, right?”

“I’m quite sure he’ll appreciate the gesture,” said Aramis kindly. D’Artagnan departed.

“More drink!” Porthos shouted, tankard in the air.

“Really, Porthos?” said Aramis, raising an eyebrow as the host filled his cup. “Putrifying bodies doused by the piss-pots of Paris?”

Porthos shrugged. “We’ve all been there.”

It was lamentably, undeniably true.


End file.
